


Terminal Misfire

by Louse



Category: Eddsworld
Genre: @ trump its fine its chill, Angst, M/M, THIS IS SUPER ANGST LADS, Violence, War, its not real, lots of hurt and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10638438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louse/pseuds/Louse
Summary: You can lead Tom to war, but you can't make him efficientTord decides Tom will be an asset to his first, big attack on leading world powers in an attempt to gain control - Tom however, is not so keen on this idea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, it's free so my typo checking was lazy. Oh, it's also OVER 16K FUCKING WORDS, for free, so fuck that. 
> 
> This is kinda angsty and I lost interest part way through, guess where and you win absolutely nothing, maybe a nod of approval.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (If you liked it comment why,,, validate my suffering it takes 5 seconds but I'll think about it for like a week and smile)

Tom grit his teeth as he stirred from some kind of sleep, one hand lifting to press the palm to his forehead. His head was killing him - it felt like he’d slugged two bottles of neat jack and passed out, but he had barely had a quarter of a bottle. His hip flask was still fairly weighty in his pocket, he definitely hadn’t drank enough to warrant this kind of headache. He cracked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the light, which was an awful lot brighter than the bulb in his room, or the house in general. Nothing about this felt right, but while he felt like someone had taken a hammer to his skull, there wasn’t much he could do.

He closed his eyes, moving his hand now to cover them, groaning. Wherever he was, he wasn’t dead, and nowhere else really hurt. He assumed he was safe enough, maybe he just wasn’t used to the new place - maybe he had drank more than he thought. He’d been quite disoriented since he, Edd and Matt had pooled together to buy another house together. They hadn’t functioned so well apart,and it had worked out cheaper to live together.

The floor was cold, he soon noticed, and that definitely wasn’t normal for the new place. He’d never been left in the kitchen or bathroom, even if he passed out there. At the very least he’d be moved to the couch. He ran his other hand over the floor, which only caused further concern. The new house had lino in the bathroom and the kitchen, and what his fingers were brushing over was most definitely tile.

Tom wasn’t sure how long he was laying there for, it could have been minutes or even hours, but eventually his head stopped pounding just enough for him to sit up, remove his hand from his eyes and open them a touch.

“Hello, old friend.”

Tom’s eyes snapped wide open, pushing himself backwards with his hands and feet best he could, wincing at how much both of these actions hurt. His eyes focused, clearing up the blurry form of no other than Tord, crouched not too far in front of him. The right side of his face was scarred up to shit, his right arm had been completely replaced by a robotic one it seemed, and he looked just a little too pleased.

“Where am I?” Tom tried to snap, but sounded pretty pathetic considering his current condition. He scowled, having to squint due to the harsh light, feeling like he had been dragged into something he really wasn’t prepared, or capable, of getting out of.

“Oh, don’t worry, Tom! You’ll be taken care of here.” Tord’s non-robotic hand made a gesture to the scarred part of his face, grinning, though considerably less menacingly than Tom would have expected. “You have quite the aim, don’t you? We’ll put that to good use I’m sure.” Tord made a waving gesture with his hand before standing up, still looking down at Tom, both hands in his trench coat now. “You look like shit, though.What have you been drinking my dear friend?”

“I’m not your fucking friend.” Tom scowled, doing his best to get up. He managed to stand, gripping the flask in his pocket and pulling it out. “Whatever you put in here, fuck you.” He uncapped the flask, and in an effort to be nothing but a spiteful prick, tipped it upside down, letting whatever was inside it empty out onto the nice, clean tile floor. One corner of Tord’s mouth pulled back into a displeased, but not overly surprised, expression, before removing a hand from his pocket and making a gesture towards Tom.

Still not in full working order, Tom was taken by surprise and swiftly restrained by two other people - most likely Tord’s favorite grunts. He did his best to struggle and fight, but at best he looked pitiful. He dropped the hip flask in the process, only sad for a moment that he’d never see it again, before turning his attention to concern for his life and safety. He was all but dragged after Tord while the Communist asshole led them… somewhere.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to keep you in a cage. I’m not even going to keep you in a locked room!”

“Oh, how nice of you. What’s the catch?”

“This.”

Tom’s eye twitched as his head was tugged up by his hair, one of the guys holding him clipping something incredibly stiff and uncomfortable around his neck. The attempt he made to yank it off was met with his arm being restrained once again. 

“What kind kinky shi-”

Tom shut his mouth pretty quickly when Tord pulled a remote out of his pocket, casually fiddling with the dial for a few moments before speaking up.

“A security measure, nothing more. After all, we can’t have you running off and bringing trouble our way can we? That,and it would be unfortunate if you transformed and we had to put you down. You were hard work, you know, making sure you could survive the transformation and revert back to your normal self.”

“You fucking assho-” 

“Hush hush, you need to get some rest.” Tord pulled a keycard out of his pocket, stopping in front of a door and swiping the card over the reader, the door sliding open. 

Tom was released then, the card held out to him. He was hesitant, but stepped forward and took it, examining it. It had a few numbers on it, most likely referring to section and door number, He looked back up at Tord, who merely smiled again.

“Be careful not to lose that, you only get one. Rest well, you’re going to need it.” Tord gestured to the open door, his expression a little firmer now, that was enough to tell Tom this wasn’t an optional part of his induction. Lacking the energy to fight, and still feeling like shit, he trudged into the room, the door shutting behind him. He didn’t bother to inspect the room, just headed towards the bed and dropped onto it. He barely moved an inch before he passed out, his sleep heavy and dreamless.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom felt considerably better when he woke up again, even if for a few seconds he forgot what had happened. His neck hurt from the shock collar being so stiff, he just hoped that was because the leather was new and fixed fairly tight. A quick feel of it told him that it had some kind of electronic lock on it, meaning it would have to be changed or replaced, then charged, meaning later on once he gained Tord’s trust he had a window of opportunity. He’d have to make a mental note of when it got changed. If he could figure out how to transform on a whim, he might stand a chance.

For now though, he had bigger concerns - for example, how he was going to get his morning shot of whiskey. Were they throwing him in the deep end and expecting him to go cold turkey? He tried not to think about that, grabbing the key card off the bed and padding towards the door, swiping the card against the reader, the door opening up. He barely stepped out of the room when what he could only assumed was some kind of guard greeted him with a grunt, and his hip flask.

Tom was wary as he reached out for the flask, taking it cautiously before unscrewing the cap, eyes on the guard as he did. He lifted the flask up to his face, taking in a deep breath to try and smell what was in it. It smelled like whiskey, not his usual brand, but whiskey nonetheless. He held the flask out to the guard.

“You first yeah?”

The guard rolled his eyes, shouldering his assault rifle and taking the flask, taking a swig of it before handing it back, then making a gesture for Tom to clear off, even though he was barely outside of the room he’d just been given. Flask in hand and at least somewhat confident it wasn’t drugged, he closed his door and pocketed his card, slugging down a few mouthfuls of whiskey. It tasted like absolute shit, as whiskey usually did, but at least he was getting what he needed. He’d take it sparingly as possible of course, he had no idea how often he’d get a refill, or if refills were even free. He figured he may have to do _something_ for them.

He headed back the way he had been dragged, now with a clear head, starting to take in his surroundings. It looked like a base of some kind, considering the security and the people walking with guns on their shoulders or at their hips like it was just what people did in the U - shit was he still in the UK even? He’d ask when he was on ‘better’ terms with Tord. The thought of even pretending to not hate him was sickening, but quite frankly, if Tom wanted to make it out alive, he had to appease Tord at first.

Tord had the upperhand quite clearly, considering all of those gunmen were at his command.

“Ah, Tom!” Tom turned his head to face the voice, frowning at the sight of Tord making his jolly way over. “Excellent, you’re awake.”

“No shit, sherlock.” Tom raised an eyebrow. “Why is that such great news?”

“Come with me and I will show you!”

“Can I pass on that?”

“Haha, no, you can not. Come! It will be fun.”

Tom grumbled as Tord slung an arm around his shoulder, leading him towards another corridor, a considerably smaller one than the one his room was on. He frowned, unsure what to think of it. Last time he’d seen one of Tord’s constructs it had ended in him nearly being killed along with Edd and Matt.

He was led to the end of the corridor, and into an open room with a large glass cylinder in the middle, some fairly less intimidating people lacking guns bustling about. A few of them moved towards the cylinder when Tom entered the room, looking expectantly at Tord.

“You want me to go in that thing, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes I do. Would you be so kind?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Tord grinned, stopping in front of the cylinder with Tom, before chuckling a little.

“I’ll keep refilling your hip flask, and I will feed you. Have fun! These lovely people will show you in.”

“You are the bane of my miserable existence, I wish I’d aimed a little more to the left.”

“I know.”

Tom made his way closer to cylinder, frowning deeper once he was stood before it. Nothing was inside, not even anything to sit on, so he figured he wasn’t going to be in there long if they’d been ’nice’ enough to provide a bed. The back wasn’t glass - it was made of some sort of solid metal, and he could only assume that was where the door was to get in and out.

“This way.” One of the scientists gestured for Tom to follow her behind the cylinder. He shot Tord a glare over his shoulder, before doing as she asked. Thankfully, she didn’t demand he strip, because she’d have been told to fuck off, instead she just unlocked the door. He made sure to have a few swigs of whiskey before setting the flask down outside and entering. The sound of the door closing behind him was…. Something.

Tord was talking with a few of the lab workers, not that Tom could hear a word they were saying. He looked up, trying to entertain himself and calm the anxiety and panic rising in his chest. There were a few vents, so at the very least he wouldn’t suffocate while they all pissed around outside instead of getting on with it. A camera, of course. What looked like a speaker, but he couldn’t be sure. A little to the left of that was a set of two lights, one turned on and red, the other Tom could only assumed turned green when… whatever happened in the cylinder happened.

What _was_ going to happen?

His attention turned back to the people outside, one moving to what he could only assume was the control panel. He made sure to flip Tord off, who simply laughed and waved, as if this was just some kind of fun thing they did on the regular.

Some buttons were pressed, and the vents above Tom whirred to life. He looked up, concerned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. They seemed to be blow a soft breeze down onto him, it smelled like a very faint gas leak, and for a split second he was concerned that they planned to suffocate him that way. That thought left his mind when he one, realized that trickling in minute amounts would be pointless, and two, he felt his skin begin to crawl.

Fuck.

Tom’s hands whipped out of his pockets, slamming the sides of his fists against the glass, brows furrowed and teeth grit. There was no point shouting, they couldn’t hear him, but he _knew_ what was going on, and he was going to make sure their jig was up. Tord only started laughing, sparking up a cigar and patting one of the scrawnier scientists on the back.

Tom grimaced as he felt unwelcome pressure in his gums and fingers, eyes screwing shut as his teeth extended, forcing their way out of his gums and claws form beneath his nails and pushed their way upwards. This was slower than when Eduardo had fucked up with his satellite dish - this was _purposefully_ slower.

He had no choice but to uncurl his hands once the claws were pushed out half a inch, lest he shred his palms. A whimper escaped him as he felt blood trickle along his scalp, the tips of horns tearing through muscle and skin. It was bearable, somehow, but still pain he would much prefer not to be in.

His knees began to buckle as his spine started to shift and extend, his eyes wide open trying to fight back tears. He didn’t feel relief until a few moments later, when the vents seemed to reverse for a handful of seconds. He looked down, checking his clothes, thankful they were fine. The door opened behind him, not that he cared enough to look around. He guessed he was fine to just walk out, there hadn’t been any radiation based consequences last time - well, to Matt and Edd. The zombie apocalypse, short live as it was, definitely happened.

“You can come out now.” The same person that had let Tom in. He grunted a little, making sure his legs weren’t going to give out on him before turning to face her. He narrowed his eyes and growled, stepping towards her. She backed off fairly quickly, much to his relief. The last thing he needed was to be crowded. 

He stepped out of the cylindrical chamber, immediately crouching to pick up his flask and down a mouthful. He was going through it fast, but he was sure he deserved it.

“Sorry about that my friend.” Tord stood not too far off, arms held out halfway in a passive gesture. “We just had to make sure things were still ticking.”

“It would be worth getting shot to tear the rest of your face to shreds.” Tom grumbled, deciding fuck it, another mouthful would serve him well. Being drunk for the first few days may actually be preferable if this was the kind of thing they had planned for him. “If your next words aren’t telling me I’m getting breakfast I may well try it.”

Of course, Tord laughed.

“I suppose you earned yourself some breakfast.”

After having hs head and hands checked, Tord was let loose from the lab with a few bandages. He’d return to normal,eventually, for now at the very least he was going to be able to get something to eat. He had no idea which way he was going, but there had to be a cafeteria somewhere.

Of course, though Tord somehow beat him out of the door and blocked his path. Tom hunched his shoulders a little and raised his lip, frustrated already by how much Tord seemed to want to be in his face.

“What now?”

“You’ll be eating with me.”

“Of fucking course.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tom had expected breakfast with Tord to be terrible, instead he found it to be unbearably awkward. They sat in complete silence while they ate,which Tom supposed he preferred, he just didn’t appreciate that Tord kept looking at him and visibly messing with the dial on the remote for Tom’s shock collar.

“Could you stop that? I’m just sat here eating.” 

“I could be _pressing_ it.”

“Go eat a dick.” 

Tom grumbled, getting back to eating his eggs and toast. He wasn’t fond of egg, but at least they’d left his toast dry. I it had come buttered everything about the breakfast would have been terrible, then again dry toast wasn’t enough to make up for the fact he was stuck with Tord.

He finished up his food as fast as he could, pushing his plate away and standing up.

“There, you’ve had your weird little breakfast date. I’m leaving.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, muttering insults under his breath as he made his way towards the door, not actually sure what he was going to do. The only thing he could really think was go back to bed, then again after what had just happened, he felt he’d be justified in deciding to go to sleep. He was also doing a piss poor job of gaining anyone’s trust, he’d need to work on that.

“One more thing, Tom.”

Tom’s eye twitched as he looked over his shoulder, one more inconvenience away from losing his absolute shit. “What is it?”

“There’s a reason I went through all the trouble of bringing you here. As much as I just love screwing with you, that’s not it.” Tord drummed his metal fingers on the table, wearing a lazy grin that made Tom’s skin crawl. “You’re a miraculous success by genetic standards - and while I’m not _currently_ planning on making more soldiers like you, you are an important asset to my plans.”

“Oh don’t I feel special.. Fuck off, Tord, I want nothing to do with you.” Tom turned back round, opening the door quickly and hurrying out of the room. He didn’t want Tord catching up to him, and hopes that the remote had a short range, if Tord felt like zapping him. 

“Tom - faen-”

Hearing a chair slide across the floor and footsteps quickly approaching him, Tom swung round quickly, lashing out with the back of his fist. He hadn’t expected to connect with anything,let alone have his wrist grabbed and arm twisted so harshly. He cried out in surprise, trying to struggle, being released a few seconds later. He turned to face Tord, scowling at him, rubbing his own wrist. It must have been Tord’s metal hand that grabbed him, because it hurt like a bitch.

“Now are you going to listen to me, or am I going to have to put your lovely new neckwear to use? Threaten harm to Edd and Matt-” Tord didn’t even finish his sentence. His lips pulled up into a toothy grin, almost a snarl, at how Tom’s eyes widened at the mention of harming Edd and Matt.

“Leave them out of this.”

“Will you behave and listen?”

“...Yes.”

“Good boy! Now, back in there.”

Tom’s shoulders slackened as he trudged back into Tord’s office, far too many thoughts running round in his head. If he attempted to escape, would Tord hurt Edd and Matt..? Probably - no, _definitely_ \- considering how eager he had been to blow Tom up. He returned to his seat, pulling his flask out of his pocket to gulp down a fair amount of whiskey.

“Why did you bring me here then, Tord? What part of your plan am I?”

“There’s are few things more intimidating than witnessing someone become a towering monster - when we make our final push, I need you to sweep the defences around the outside-”

“Where? What exactly are you attacking?”

“The White House, the USA. Once we have that, we will be unstoppable. We were going to start smaller, but… that came with too many risks.”

Tom was silent for a few seconds, aggravated by the way Tord seemed to study him while he was. Tord really was planning to take over, wasn’t he? How safe would Edd and Matt really be once Tord’s plan was set in motion - the US may be a separate land mass to the UK, but there would be riots and revolution there no doubt. The zombie apocalypse was short lived, this war could go on forever.

“You’re batshit crazy, Tord.” Tom capped his flask, knowing he had no choice but to go along with it, for now. There was no stopping him fucking the plans up once they rolled out. 

“Oh, Tom, you never fail to amuse me. I know this sounds hard, you are expected to commit some very serious crimes, but....” Tord beamed, and for some odd reason it seemed to be genuine. Almost out of nowhere he produced a hat from under the table, similar to the one Tord had retrieved from the house before blowing it up, bar the spike on the dome. “You get a cool hat!”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! This is your hat, I even made sure it would take your hideous hair into account.” Tord slid the hat across the table, looking at Tom expectantly. “Well, put it on.”

Tom would have rolled his eyes if anyone but him would have known he’d done it. He picked the hat up, inspected the inside, before placing it on his head. He raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what the point of it was.

Tord clapped his hands together once, clearly pleased. “Welcome aboard, Blue Leader!”

“Wait, what?”


	4. Chapter 4

A few days had passed, and Tom still wasn’t entirely sure his situation was real. He was drunker than he would have normally been, which was saying something, and Tord had occasionally made an appearance to fill his flask, find a way to call him Blue Leader, then leave while talking about how great Tom would be. It was confusing at best, and of course Tom had spent the majority of his time in bed.

He’d only really wandered out of his room when he was hungry, and after the first time Tord had been disappointed that he hadn’t been wearing his hat, for some reason.

Tom rolled out of bed, muttering to himself that he needed to hassle Tord about clean clothes before he picked up his hat and dumped it on his head. He was relieved to see there was no guard outside his room now. Not that the guy ever bothered him, it was just weird. Well, it was one of two guys - Paul or Patryck - apparently they were Tord’s favorites. At least he’d learned their faces, he could go to them about food if Tord decided to do a disappearing act. For some reason, Tom wasn’t allowed to eat in the communal cafeteria, he’d be refused any kind of meal, even though he was more than welcome to hang around if he wanted to. Not that he did, he didn’t plan on making any friends.

He had been hoping to find Paul or Patryck, they got him food then either left him alone or answered his questions as far as they were allowed to. All Tord did was play with the remote on his collar and talk endlessly about what he’d do when his movement took over. Luck was on his side, it seemed.

“Hungry?” Patryck’s voice - Tom spotted him holding a tray with food already on it. Looked like stew of some kind, he decided right then he wouldn’t ask what was in it. “I was about to bring this to your room.”

“Dinner service, I really am spoiled.” Tom grunted, approaching Patryck to take the tray for him. “Thanks, though.” Patryck handed the tray over with no fuss, offering Tom a mile - an almost pitiful one. 

“Paul will be coming by later - you’re needed, so don’t worry about the tray and the plate.”

“Needed for what?” Just when Tom thought he was going to be able to have a few days to accept his situation. “...He’s not putting me back in the cylinder is he?”

“No, no.” Patryck shook his head. “You just need to stay up to date on your role here. Paul and I will be there too, as well as other high ranking personnel.” 

“Alright, I guess. I’ll see you then.”

Patryck nodded. “See you then, Blue Leader.”

With that, they parted ways, Tom headed back to his room to eat. It was about then he decided he really hated his hat.

The stew was alright, and his bed comfortable, the only thing bothering Tom was that he was bored out of his skull. He could only sleep so much, and right then his body just refused to sleep. He had nothing else to do, bar talking to the soldiers, which wasn’t his idea of a good time. He wanted to keep away from them as much as possible, the less people that knew him personally, the easier it would be to escape, or fuck up their plans.

He found himself counting seconds eventually, before he lost count and just groaned in frustration. He lifted a hand to mess with his conch piercings, trying to distract himself. When was Paul going to get him? He’d much rather be at some lame commie board meeting than lay in bed doing nothing. Besides, he needed to know what was going to happen. Just as he was about to start throwing stuff against the wall

Looked like there was at least one more card to his door, considering Paul opened it and stepped in, spotting Tom midst pillow-throw.

“...Am I interrupting something?”

“No, just get me out of this fucking room.”

“You could have left any time-”

“Just take me to wherever it is you commie fuckers have your get togethers.”

Paul frowned at Tom’s words, which only made Tom snicker. “Wouldn’t want to be late, Tord seems like the kind of crackpot to get real mad about that.”

Paul just nodded and headed out of the door, giving Tom a moment to close it behind them before continuing on, the opposite way that Tom had been going normally. Good, so it definitely wasn’t the hell cylinder, he hoped he didn’t have to go back in there again, or at the very least, it would be for a faster transformation. He guessed the shock collar would come off for that though.

He was ushered into a fairly dimly lit room, which didn’t instill much confidence, finding a seat the furthest away from anyone else seated. Paul however sat next to him, Patryck making his way over to sit next to him. Tom slouched in his seat, hands in his pockets. He wanted to be alone as he could be, but it made sense for at least one guy to be close to him considering the room was only lit by a projector at the front.

The worst part was that everyone was silent. There wasn’t even any murmuring or whispering, everyone just sat patiently. Of course it was Tord that strode into the room that made people break their silence, everyone standing and or greeting him in some form or another. Tord flashed a grin, that much Tom could see, before gesturing directly at him.

“Have you greeted our Blue Leader with such respects?” Tord questioned, in an ill-fitting light hearted tone. “You should be getting into the habit of it.”

“I’d rather not-” Tom’s words were fast drowned out by similar greetings and mumbled apologies, it was almost as if they all feared being too loud in this dim little room. Tom slouched further into his chair, glaring at Tord, who seemed to be chuckling quietly to himself at the display.

“Excellent. Now, as you know, we need to keep our plans fresh in our minds - and now we finally have the final components. Our attack will start in approximately two months from now, you will receive dates via more private means. For now, let me show you some blueprints.” The projector screen flickered, before plans for some kind of gun appeared on screen. “We have finally discovered how we are going to load armor piercing shells into more compact, easier to carry weapons - we’ve put focus on ensuring all of you will at the very least have one clip of bullets and the weapon.”

Tord rolled through more weapon blueprints, before something very familiar appeared - the blueprint that had been on Tord’s secret room wall in the old house, quite specifically, the one that had been the plans for Tom’s mutation.

“We finally have Tom. He’s still settling in, of course,but after testing I can assure you all he still has it in him, if you will.”

Tom grit his teeth, feeling eyes on him briefly. This was more uncomfortable than he’d anticipated.

“All he needs now is training, and a drop pod, and he will be ready. Paul, Patryck, he seems to like you two, can you take care of his training for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. That’s all for now, if anyone is interested in seeing any of these weapons in action, bar Tom of course, then you know where the firing range is.”

Tom didn’t even have a second to argue before Paul and Patryck urged him up onto his feet and out of the door, practically rushing him through the corridors. It occurred to him then, he hadn’t seen any windows. Was all of this underground? That would certainly put a damper on any escape plans he could formulate…. Hell what country was he in even?

“Where are we going?” Tom figured it was pointless to resist, so he’d grit teeth and bear it, but at the very least he wanted answers.

“The training floor. You need to learn how to fight.”

Unsurprisingly, it turned out to be just as terrible as it sounded.

Tom yelped as Paul’s boot collided with his chin, knocking him back and onto his ass. He was dazed for a few moments, before clambering back up to his feet and taking a swing. He didn’t even get close, before Patryck beat him down between the shoulder blades with a baton. He hit the ground hard, wincing as he tried to get up again. A boot firmly wedged on the spot that had just been hit stopped him.

“You need to do better than that.” Patryck snapped, tapping the bayard against his thigh. “We wont be letting up on you. You need to _learn_.”

“There’s no beginner mode!?” Tom wasn’t pleading, but by god he was close. Every part of him ached, though he supposed that was the point.

“This _is_ “beginner mode.”

With that, the boot was removed, Tom was hauled up by his hoodie and one leg, and tossed. When he hit the ground again, he whimpered, doing his best not to curl up. He very nearly began praying for it to be over when he felt hands on him again, though not as rough.

“Nice hands now.” Paul’s voice. Tom was helped up to his feet, then quickly left to stand by himself. His knees nearly gave out, which only made Patryck tut.

“You wont get very far if you act like this.”

Tom winced, waiting for the next blow to his chest or face, but one didn’t come.

“It’s his first training session, Pat. He will learn.”

Tom was dismissed quickly after that. He had to lean heavily against the walls as he walked, limping and flinching every other step. They wanted him back the next day - they weren’t even going to give him chance to heal. The only thing that could have made things worse would have been Tord’s sudden appearance.

He had a clear run back to his room, planning on making his way straight to bed, but froze up before he was barely three step towards it.

“Aw, they were so harsh on you, my friend!” Tord pat the bed next to him, grinning. “Why don’t we talk about a more effective way to show you the ropes?”

“Get out.” Tom snapped, despite not looking overly threatening.

“Come now, Tom, I just want to help-”

“OUT!”

There was a moment of silence, before Tord’s expression darkened. He stood, approaching Tom and looking him dead in the eyes.

“Let us hope you enjoy being beaten within an inch of your life then, yes?” Tord left after that, Tom watching him leave before shutting the door behind him,finally getting to lay on his bed.

Tomorrow was going to be absolutely terrible - he honestly hoped he didn’t wake up again.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day on the training floor was god awful. Tom was only waiting for Paul and Patryck, and he was already too sore to function. It had taken him half an hour to get out of bed and walk there, but with the note he’d found on the door of his room, he’d decided there was at least something in it for him if he showed up.

Clean clothes, a flask refill, and lunch without Tord taunting him with the shock collar remote. The fact Tord knew not being around him was a reward would have been funny, had Tom not felt like getting himself shot to avoid the day ahead of him. His muscles tensed as he heard the door open, looking over his shoulder, preparing for the worst. It was a good job he did,because Paul charged him with a _fucking combat knife_. He swore, leaping to the side and raising his arms to shield himself in case he got charged again.

He was pleased to discover that he hadn’t been attacked again, instead, Paul and Pat smiled, seeming almost proud that Tom had managed to actually avoid an attack. It didn’t last long, though. Paul dropped the knife, whipped out a baton and went straight for Tom, who jumped back again, wincing at the burn that caused through his muscles.

“Nice to see you too!” He spat, hoping for at least some kind of greeting before they got to beating his sorry ass.

“You’re doing better than yesterday.” Patryck commented from afar, not joining in yet, just watching as Tom dodged Paul, in agony each time he did. “I know it hurts but you will learn to ignore the pain.”

Tom’s joints stiffened up eventually, unable to dodge Paul and received a baton strike to the cheek. He yelped, and staggered backwards, but just managed to stay upright. Not that it mattered, Paul slammed his boot into Tom’s chest, sending him flying a few feet. When he landed, he was straight back to trying to get up, still dazed. To his surprise, he managed it - only for Patrych to deck him. He went down again, not making a sound this time.

For a moment, Tom legitimately thought he was dead. When he came back round, he winced, sitting up on his elbows, bracing himself for the next kick or strike. Instead, he felt a hand grip his hair and start to drag him across the floor. He swore, gripping whoever it was’ wrist, trying to resist.

“Let go of me! At least let me get back up!”

“The enemy wont give you such mercy-”

“Patryck.” 

Paul’s voice was firm, and Patryck stopped, almost immediately letting go of Tom’s hair.

“Paul, we’re under strict orders to train him. He has a few months, we can’t go easy on him.”

“He wont learn anything if he’s on the ground all the time, will he?”

Patryck didn’t argue as Paul helped Tom up. Tom had hopes he’d be left alone to go lay down again.

“Here, watch.”

Tom did as he was told, as Paul beckoned Patryck over. “We should show him how to do things rather than expect him to know.”

Patryck immediately after speaking threw a punch at Paul, who gripped Patryck’s wrist and countered with a high kick that didn’t look physically possible.

Tom watched in bewilderment as Paul and Pat attempted to beat the shit out of each other, and sometimes succeeded, and came out of it laughing. Even though Pat had kicked Paul pretty hard in the face, and there was going to be one hell of a bruise there, they were acting as if they’d just heard a fantastic joke.

“Does that not hurt?” Tom asked, gesturing at Paul’s face.

“Yes, but it doesn’t faze me. I learned how to ignore pain - fighting with comrades is just an everyday activity for us. It keeps us alert, fit and ensures we dont forget our training. It’s your turn now Tom, come here.”

“Fuck off I can barely move.”

“I’m not going to hit you.”

Tom grumbled, he just wanted to put some clean clothes on and go to fucking bed. He dragged his feet as he approached Paul, stopping in front of him.

“What now?”

“Try and hit me. Punch me, kick me, whatever you like.”

“This is going to end well for me I can feel it in my broken and shattered bones.”

Paul and Patryck laughed, and while he was sore and angry, Tom cracked a smile, before throwing a punch as hard and as fast as he could in his current state while Paul was distracted. Tom braced for being thrown when his wrist was caught. Instead, Paul simply pushed his chest gently, showing Tom what to do next without hurting him.

“Now try and catch my fist.” Paul released Tom, who shook his head.

“No, look. Thanks for going easier on me but I’m sore, at least one bone is broken and-”

Tom cried out in surprise as Paul swung at him, raising his arms in a cross to shield his face,feeling the fist connect, but not half as hard as it should have.

“Good, now counter.”

Tom lowered his arms, looking at Paul, who was stood completely still.

“Uh, how?”

“Whatever you think works from your position.”

Tom’s first instinct was to go for a kick, aiming for Paul’s gut. Paul of course caught his foot, but didn’t throw him.

“Wrong?”

“A lower, sweeping kick would take your opponent off guard.”

By the time Tom left the training floor, he was still in more pain than he would have liked, but at the very least he had made some progress. Patryck gave him a hearty pat on the back, which didn’t help, but the gesture was appreciated.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Tom. Same time - your clothes, dinner and a bottle of whiskey should already be in your room.”

Paul and Pat waved briefly, before heading off, slinging their arms round each other’s shoulders. Tom watched them for a moment, smiling a little, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. He trudged back to his room, feeling tears well up in his eyes the closer he got. He was never going to see Edd and Matt again. Fuck, Tom didn’t even know if they were actually safe. He gripped the half empty flask in his hand, hoping the bottle he was being given was full, and not expected to last. The only way he was going to rest at all was to drink himself stupid.

Classic, stupid Tom.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he swiped his keycard, hurrying into his room, only to see Tord stood there.

“Oh for fuck sake - Tord get the fuck out of my room!” Fighting back tears when they’d already started to fall was nearly impossible, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Tord. If anything that was the last thing he needed. 

“I don’t feel like leaving just yet.” Tord smirked, gesturing to the bed before walking over and sitting on it. “You did better than yesterday, Tom. You deserve a treat dont you think?”

“Whatever it is I don’t want it.”

“Are you sure about that?” Tord picked a handheld tablet up off the bed, offering it to Tom. “Unlock it.”

Tom grunted, sitting on the bed, blinking to try force tears back as he took the tablet and unlocked it. He gripped the tablet harder as he saw what was on the screen - it seemed to be a live feed of Edd and Matt. Whatever the camera was was a little shaky, so maybe a drone, peering in through the window. Edd and Matt were curled up on the couch, talking about something, it was clear they’d both been crying.

Were they crying because they thought Tom was dead…?

Tom watched in silence, not even noticing that he had started to cry - not quite sobbing but getting there. At the very least, they were safe, if only he could be there with them. 

What snapped him out of it was a hand on his shoulder - Tord’s mechanical hand specifically. Tom shot him a glare, not wanting to be touched, but not saying anything for fear that his voice would crack.

“I know you miss them, Tom. I miss them too despite what happened - what I did.” Tord sighed, closing his eyes. “I sometimes wish I could start over, my friend, but what’s done is done.”

Tom wanted to shout and lash out, break the tablet over Tord’s fucking face, but he didn’t have it in him. He was angry at Tord, how dare he imply he cared about any of them after what he did, but at the same time he was thankful Tord had let him see that Edd and Matt were safe. His shoulders started to shake, before he broke down sobbing. He was in physical pain, far from drunk enough to cope and fully realized he wasn’t going to be able to see them in person again. He was either going to die or be a wanted criminal, and be unable to visit them without putting them in danger.

He didn’t even fight when he felt Tord pull him in, just letting his cheek rest against Tord’s chest, sobbing pathetically, eyes screwed shut. He may have been a little cold but he adored Edd and Matt - fuck it he loved them - knowing that they were hurting too just made everything worse.

It was a few minutes later when Tom calmed down enough to unlock the tablet again to look at the screen. He sniffed, feeling like a pathetic child for a few moments. He felt fingers in his hair, but gentle, almost comforting. He needed it direly, so for a few moments he let it happen, before scowling and shoving Tord away.

“Don’t touch me, commie.”

Tord frowned, but stood up and stepped back from the bed.

“Are you sure you want to be alone, Tom?”

“Yes.” He didn’t want to be alone, but he wasn’t quite broken enough to _want_ Tord’s company. 

Tord sighed, nodded, then left. Through his bleary vision, he swore he caught Tord smirking.


	6. Chapter 6

After about a week of training with Paul and Patryck, Tom was doing considerably better. He actually had clean clothes regularly, and was able to block and counter much more effectively. He was still very, very sore, and moving hurt, but the fact he was getting hit less meant he was actually able to hear.

He found himself laughing when he landed a hit on Paul or Pat.

“You’re getting better, Tom!” Patryck praised as Tom blocked his attack and countered with a kick, grinning as if he hadn’t just been kicked directly in the chest. “Much faster!”

“I’m getting there!” Tom went or a sweeping kick, and much to his surprise actually flooring Patryck, who let out a howling laugh, throwing his arms up in mock defeat. Paul laughed too, but made sure to go in for a punch while doing so. Tom was distracted with his victory, so took the hit, tripping over Patryck on the ground and falling on his ass.

There was silence for a moment, before laughter erupted again.

Tom wasn’t sure why training was so much fun now - maybe because he had nothing else to do - but fighting and getting hit was genuinely a good time. Tom got back up, offering a hand to Patryck, who took it while he stood.

“I think that’s all for one day.” Paul managed to say once he stopped laughing, patting Tom on the back. “We should celebrate your progress, Tom. We should have some drinks.”

“You have a bar here?” Tom asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ha, I wish! No, but we’re allowed into the alcohol stores.” Patryck waved for both of them to follow him, and Tom didn’t hesitate. Drinking was always more fun with other people, and Paul and Pat were the closest thing to friends Tom would let himself have there. 

Paul and Tom waited outside the food and drink stored while Patryck went in, cheering quietly when he came back out with a few bottles - vodka, whiskey, rum and fireball.

They made their way back to Paul’s room - Tom looked at the nameplate on the door, a little surprised. Paul and Patryck shared a room apparently - then again if they were Tord’s favorites, no wonder. Once they were inside, Patryc pretty much dive bombed the bed, Paul fetched glasses, and Tom followed Patryck, though considerably calmer. Their bed was a double, and no other bed in sight.

Tom figured they were together then, which sent a pang of hurt through his chest. God, he missed Edd and Matt… he really needed a drink. Paul came over with pitchers, fuck glasses apparently, joining Tom and Patryck on the bed with a grin.

They filled their pitchers with an abomination mixture, it was going to destroy them tomorrow but they were well aware.

“Now. Do we drink this like rational men, or do we see how much we can drink in one go?” Paul asked, lifting his pitcher just shy of his lips.

“Chug it.” Was Tom’s response. He started to drink fast s he could, the other two doing the same, nearly choking on the god awful taste, but like hell was he going to lose. He heard Paul stop first, then Patryck, but kept going. They both encouraged him. When he lowered the pitcher, he’d finished it all, all three of them letting out one hell of a cheer, before Tom groaned. “Fuck that was a mistake.”

Paul and Patryck finished their drinks while prodding fun at Tom’s recklessness. Tom was considerably drunker than he’d like, but at the same time it was comforting. Hell, he even drank more. He _needed_ this kind of wind-down, after all.

The next thing he was aware of was waking up, and certainly not in his bed. He frowned, head hurting. He blinked away the fog in his vision, realizing that he had arms around him. He could feel breathing on the top of his head, and for a second was confused. Then he remembered he’d spent the best part of three hours drinking. He started to move very slowly trying to shift out of the arms that were around him. At first, he was pulled back in gently, after that though he managed to wriggle away and out of the bed.

It looked like it was Patryck that had been holding him, Paul spooning Patryck. Tom figured they’d just fallen asleep together because they were wasted, but he still felt wrong. In fact, it hurt - not because he was necessarily upset by the affection, but because it reminded him just how much me missed Matt and Edd. He grumbled making sure to fumble around and find his flask before headed to the door.

“Mh - Tom?”

Tom froze up, looking round, unsure whether to respond or just go.”Yeah, Patryck?”

“Everything ok?”

Tom was silent for a moment, before replying.

“Yeah, I’m just headed back to my room, I don’t feel too good.”

“Alright.. See you tomorrow Tom.” Patryck sounded a little disappointed, but Tom couldn’t stay, he may never see Edd and Matt again but he’d made his commitments.

“See you.”

Tom let the room, hurrying back to his own, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t walking well, knocking into the wall constantly, but at the very least he was making good time. By the time he got to his room, he’d broken down crying again, but at the very least Tord wasn’t there. He climbed into bed, clutching his pillow and burying his face in it. He missed Edd, he missed Matt, he missed waking up to one of them crawling into bed with him.

He just wanted to go home. At the very least, he was drunk enough to pass out.


	7. Chapter 7

Tom trained hard for the next week, the impending push against the US government absolutely terrified him, he needed to be strong enough to stall or stop an entire communist army in hopes of thwarting their plans right when they were most vulnerable. He needed to be alive long enough to get the point where he could transform, that meant he needed to be able t fight.

He was surprised when Paul and Pat led him past the training room, and towards what appeared to be a firing range.

“I already know how to shoot.” Tom spoke up, not arguing missing out on a light beating, but so he wasn’t babied around guns. 

“Ah, good, that will save us some time.” Paul grinned at Tom, before holding the door open for him and Patryck. Tom had noticed that Patryck and Paul had become gradually more proud of him, actually consistently telling him so. As much as Tom hated it, he’d found a friend in the two of them, despite having told himself he wasn’t going to. He supposed he was just desperate for positive interaction, they were the only people that were nice to him - at least, genuinely. Tord had ulterior motives with every kind act.

Before Tom knew it, an assault rifle was dumped in his hands.

“Show us what you’ve got.” Patryck gestured towards one of the aisles, Tom deciding not to waste any time and get himself in position. He was slightly startled by the fact the targets started to move between aisles, assuming that it had been a stationery range. Regardless, he lifted the gun, shooting best he could at the targets. He was fairly sure he hadn’t missed many, if any at all, by the time the target slowed down and halted.

“Impressive!”

Paul and Pat clapped a few times, one ruffling Tom’s hair a little.

“Told you I could shoot.”

His time at the firing range was pleasant - they had fun shooting the shit out of paper targets, and losing track of their stupid “point” system. They left the range smiling, talking about each other’s excellent shots, and the bad ones of course. All three of them fell silent though, Paul and Pat freezing up, as soon as they spotted Tord.

“It’s nice to see you smiling, Tom.” Tord lifted a hand, dismissing Paul and Pat, who actually seemed _hesitant_ to do so, but were never keen on refusing orders.

Tom watched Paul and Pat leave, before turning to Tord. 

“What do you want?”

“Just some time to talk.”

Tord started to walk,Tom doing his best to catch up.

“Talk about what?”

“Paul and Patryck. They’re very fond of you”

Tom narrowed his eyes, knowing he’d have to choose his words carefully. “They’re just happy I’m actually improving.”

“I’m not jealous, Tom, relax. I’m glad, I haven’t seen them this visibly happy in a long time.” Tord folded his arms behind his back, looking over at Tom. “They tend to talk about you when we’re dealing with particularly boring business.”

“And what do they say?”

“They talk about the progress you’ve made, they actually mentioned when you ended up so drunk you joined them for a nap.”

Tom’s shoulders hunched a little, his teeth gritting for a moment. “Your point?”

“They’re fond of you, and they’re worried you’re only playing along to appease me. Is that true?”

Tom shook his head. “No. They’re the only people i can bear to be around in this place.”

Tord threw his head back and laughed a little. “Aw, I thought we’d overcome our differences.”

“You wish.”

Tord chuckled, before moving an arm to elbow Tom gently. “You can let yourself be happy here, Tom.” After that, he pulled a tablet out of his pocket. “You can keep watching Edd and Matt through drone cameras, or you can let go - not forget them, I would never as that - but at the very least let yourself adjust, settle in, be happy.”

Tom looked at the tablet, reaching out to take it. The one he’d been given had been missing or a few days, he figured Tord had taken it. Tord moved it away from him or a moment, a reminder that Tom should think about what he just said, before letting Tom take it.

“I know you hate me, Tom, but I care for all of my soldiers. It would be nice to see you smiling more often. There’s something nice in your room for you - enjoy.”

Tord sped up then, making his way past Tom’s room - Tom swore he saw that smirk again.

He shook his head, opening his room and stepping inside. What Tord had left or him was not only a tray of assorted whiskeys, albeit in smaller bottles than usual, but what looked like a PSP console and a handful of games.

Tom may hate Tord’s guts, but for just a moment upon seeing something to entertain him between training sessions, he was thankful.

What a shame all the games sucked.


	8. Chapter 8

Tom unfortunately gave some thought to what Tord told him. Not that he was going to take that advice - he was going to get back to Edd and Matt somehow. He’d sweep the communist army instead of the US forces and crush Tord with his jaws. He’d make i back to the UK one way or another, Edd and Matt would no doubt see the news, and know he was alive, they’d hold out for him.

It had been a few days since the talk with Tord, which had made him feel more awkward around Paul and Patryck - maybe that was the intention though. Maybe Tord was trying to unsettle him because he was a dick. He chose to believe that, Paul and Pat made him forget for a while how miserable he was, he wasn’t giving that up.

He sat up when he heard the door opening, pleased to see both Paul and Pat lean their heads round the doorframe. They got less and less formal every time Tom saw them, it was kind of great.

“Coming.” Tom was out of bed and to the door within a few seconds, grinning at the two at the door.

“Sleep well?” Paul asked as Tom shut the door behind him, heading towards the training hall.

“Slept alright, you two?”

“Yeah we slept fine.” Patryck reached out and tugged Tom’s hoodie playfully. “Not that way today.”

Tom turned round to give the both of them a confused look. He knew the base as two directions from his room - hell cylinder and the training floors. 

“Where are we going then?”

“We’ll show you.”

Trusting Paul and Pat enough, he followed them, thankfully past the hell room, and down a corridor he hadn’t bothered with before. Now he was curious as to what was down there that was interesting enough to presumably be skipping training. They walked or a few minutes in silence, before stopping in front of a door.

“Don’t tell Tord you were here.” Paul spoke up,voice firmer than normal.

“You may be the Blue Leader but only Tord and us are meant to be in here.”

“I wont tell him.”

With a shared nod, Paul and Patryck used their key cards to open the door and step inside, ushering Tom in quickly. He was confused at first, seeing a whole lot of monitors - then it clicked. Tord somehow knew where Tom was, how he was doing and such because this was the surveillance room. A smaller screen sat on the desk, which caught his attention. Paul clicked it on, and pushed a drone remote across the desk towards him.

“..Tord showed you pre-caught footage of Edd and Matt.”

“They’re safe.” Patryck interjected quickly. “But live feed is unpredictable.”

Tom frowned, before looking to the screen, and messing with the controller. He saw the outside of the house - his house - flying the drone around. He checked in a few windows, eventually finding Edd and Matt in his room, sat on the bed, an arm each around each other. He watched for a few moments, about to ask Paul and Pat if there was any way to see Edd and Matt again, stopped by the door opening.

All three of them turned to the door terrified, seeing Tord stood in the doorway, _furious_.

“Tord - !”

“Shut the fuck up.” Tord growled, approaching them. “This is the one place I tell you cant bring him. I thought you were trustworthy, what other shit have you dont behind my back?”

“Nothing - Tord let us explain -” Patryck was grabbed by the shirt collar, and pulled away from Tom and Paul a few steps.

“And to think I considered you my two best soldiers!” Tord drew his fist back, ready to strike Patryck.

Before any of them could even blink, Tom had thrown himself at Tord and tackled him to the ground, fangs and claws having forced their way out. Tord looked horrified, genuinely afraid, pushing Tom’s face away, trying to end off his claws. Tom was _pissed off_ ,he was barely thinking, just clawing and biting at Tord, trying to tear any part of him to shreds that he could reach.

It took both Paul and Patryck to pull him off, even then he fought to try and get back at Tord, who stood, retreating back a few steps. For a handful of seconds, he was quiet, looking at Tom with wide eyes, before he grinned, his lips pulled far too far as he started laughing.

“Ha, maybe there was some method in your madness after all! I should have known not to doubt you!” His face darkened soon after he spoke, though. “If your next scheme includes me being attacked, however, I wont be so forgiving. Get him out of this room and don’t bring him back.” Tord stepped aside as Tom was dragged out, considerably calmer now, his hands and mouth aching.

Paul and Patryck took Tom to their room, making sure to lock the door behind them, both of them looking fearful. 

“I- I’m sorry, fuck I didn’t think -” Tom wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like he had just compromised the safety of his only two friends in the base, and possibly even Edd and Matt’s safety.

“It’s not your fault, Tom.”

“Lie down, you need to rest, it’ll be fine.”

Tom looked between Paul and Pat, shaking his head afterwards. 

“What’s Tord going to do to you?”

“Nothing.” paul assured Tom with a smile. “He thinks it was part of you training, or a plan, or… something. He said so.”

“He’ll forgive us for it - he’s forgiven worse.”

“Are you sure?” Tom wasn’t convinced, nor was he sure why that room was so private, or why Tord kept such close tabs on Edd and Matt… he had a lot of questions, including why Paul and Pat had risked their safe and avored relationship with Tord to let him see Edd and Matt. Was it intended, had they planned it…?

“We’re sure. Come on, lie down.”

“We can leave you alone for a while, if you want.”

Tom shook his head, not wanting to be alone or let his two friends out of his sight. That, and despite the run in he’d just had, Tord’s words echoed through his head again. _Just let yourself be happy._

“Stay, please.”

Both Paul and Pat nodded, ushering Tom into the bed. They both sat on it, making sure not to sit on Tom, and held hands, clearly still anxious. It took a few moments before Tom lifted the covers, silently telling them he wanted them to join him. It was their bed, he wasn’t going to take it from them like that. That, and he was used to having two fairly attention needy partners, the lack of positive physical contact while at the base had been fucking him up.

He felt a little strange as Paul and Pat got under the covers either side of him, shuffling closer to hold him between them, but it was comforting at the very least. He let out a soft sigh, before closing his eyes again, letting his forehead lean against Patryck’s chest, His hair didn’t seem to get in the way much, Patryck nuzzling his chin down into it. It took everything Tom had not to start crying, he’d been doing that too much, exhaustion eventually taking him.

He woke up with both Paul and Pat still there with him. His jaw and finger tips didn’t hurt now, at the very least, but he was all of a sudden incredibly uncomfortable. As much as being held felt nice, and was desperately needed, he should’ve known better. He needed to spend more time preparing for the push so he could get back to Edd and Matt.

 

He was still at first, trying to figure out how to get out from between Paul and Pat without waking them. He wasn’t sure it could be done, he may have to bite waking his friends up. He started to wriggle a little, trying to ease their grip on him. He felt Paul move, nuzzling his face into the back of Tom’s head. Tom tensed up a little, hoping he hadn’t woken the other.

 

“Tom, you alright?” Paul murmured, giving the back of Tom’s head a tired but affectionate kiss. Tom grit his teeth, doing his best not to alarm Paul, he didn’t want to upset the guy.

“I’m alright.”

“Nightmare?”

“...Yeah.” He’d roll with that. It didn’t seem lie he was going to be able to get up without waking both of them, and leaving them concerned about him.

Paul held him a little tighter, murmuring softly.

“It’s alright, you’re safe here Tom. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Tom’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to control the sheer amount of emotion that overcame him then. He didn’t feel safe in the base, it felt like any second Tord would just decide to be rid of him, Edd and Matt, he didn’t believe for a second that Tord felt bad for what he’d done. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t still be trying to take over the world.

At the very least though, Paul and Pat made him feel a little safer. He lay there for a while, suffering in his own emotional state, before a light sleep took him again. It was short lived, the door opening an hour or so later.

“Rise and shine, soldiers!”

Tord’s voice.

All three of them sat up quickly, Tom prepared immediately to fight.

“Asleep in your uniforms, you two?” Tord tutted, but playfully, a bright smile slapped across his face. “You’re late to the training floor! You’ve been making great progress, Tom,and while I’m sure you needed that day off, you need to keep it up.”

“I’ll be able to do what you need me to do.” Tom’s voice was cold, which clearly worried Paul and Pat, who seemed to be getting ready to excuse his tone for him. “Don’t worry about that.”

Tord tilted his head a little at Tom’s words, before chuckling light heartedly. “I don’t doubt that, but I would like to see you alive and well after the act.” His expression softened then, looking to Paul and Pat, almost looking apologetic “...I owe the both of you an apology.”

That seemed off to Tom, Tord apologizing? He remained quiet on the matter, even as Paul and Pat got up off the bed and approached Tord, each taking one of his hands and smiling. They spoke quietly, too quiet for Tom to catch anything of note,, but considering the fact they bunted their heads against each other’s softly and grinned, it seemed that forgiveness was all around. It truck Tom then that Paul and Pat were probably dating Tord, too, and that made him feel even weirder. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was feeling guilty for accepting and liking the affection he’d been given, but they were also romantically involved with the guy Tom despises he most. That made Tom wonder even more if all of this was a plan, were Paul and Pat taking advantage of the fact he was touch starved…?

“Tom-”

Tom snapped out of his thoughts when Tord spoke to him. He narrowed his eyes as Tord approached him, shoulders tensing up as a silent warning. He’d attacked Tord once, he would happily do it again if needs be.

“Leave me alone, Tord.”

“Listen.” Tord held a hand out to Tom - his actual hand, not his metal one, palm up. “I want to make things up to you, to the best of my ability. I realize what I’ve done is… well, unforgivable in your eyes, and understandably so - but at the very least I would like to be on good terms with you.” 

Tom looked at the hand Tord offered him, then back to his face, and for some reason he almost believed Tord meant what he’d said.

“You wish, Commie.”

Tord smiled a little, leaving his hand out. “After this is over, Edd and Matt will be brought to you unharmed. You can do whatever you like as long as you stay within the designated safe ones we set while we clean up any oppositions to our ideas. Regardless of whether you choose to give me a chance or not.”

Tom was glad nobody could see how his eyes moved, he looked over at Paul and Pat who looked hopeful, and were none the wiser to being watched. After a few seconds, Tom grunted, lifting a hand to take Tord’’s, unsure what the hell to do now.

“Fine. If you don’t make good on that though, Tord, I wont miss again.”

Tord squeezed Tom’s hand gently, before stepping back and nodding. 

“Thank you, Tom. Best of luck with your training today.” He turned and left after that, and this time Tom didn’t catch a smirk or even a smile. Paul and Pat joined him on the bed again, softly thanking him for giving Tord a chance, nuzzling him gently too.

Ha, this was a mess.


	9. Chapter 9

Tord showed up more often after training sessions in the coming weeks, sometimes even joining in. He’d gone one to one with Tom a few times, each time Tom had improved, but still couldn’t win. He didn’t laugh when he fought Tord, even though it was friendly. Hemay have agreed to be on better terms with him, but that didn’t mean he’d ever treat him like a friend again. Tord laughed and grinned regardless though, congratulating Tom on every successful hit., which ground his gears.

Until he’d had enough of it.

“I’m not a kid!” He snapped after Tord called him “good soldier” after landing a hit on his chest, throwing himself towards the other, shoulder ramming him hard and into the ground. He held Tord down by his throat with one hand, gripping tight and cutting off his air supply, one fist drawing back to beat him. He stopped himself just in time though, bringing the fist down gently against Tord’s unscarred cheek. “Keep your guard up.” He scolded instead, releasing Tord and standing up. 

“Well played.” Tord said as he stood, rubbing his neck, studying Tom for a moment. “You’re going to be an asset to our team, Tom. I can see it.”

“Don’t suck up to me because I took you down.”

Tord made a ‘pfft’ noise, waving his hand. “I’m impressed, that’s all.” He stepped over to Tom, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Meet me in my office after your training session - nothing bad of course, I merely have something for you.”

Tom nodded, curious as to what Tord had for him. He just hoped it wasnt a slightly ‘cooler’ hat, he’d only just managed to get out of wearing his current one all the time. He turned to Paul and Pat, shrugging before getting into a defensive stance, expecting one of them to rush him. He looked between them, confused when they just came over and bunted their heads against him, grinning.

“Even we can’t floor Tord like that during training.” Patryck praised, Tom felt his lips pull into a small smile. He couldn’t help but be pleased when he was praised by Paul or Pat, they didn’t treat him like a dog or a child at the very least. Paul took one of his hands as he relaxed, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Once you’re done with Tord, you can have dinner with us?” Paul offered, Tom nodded of course, dinner with his two friend was much better than with Tord. Though thinking on it, were they just his friends now? Nothing other than sleeping cuddled up together and occasional kisses to the forehead and cheeks had happened between them, all things Tom would have considered fairly platonic, but he wasn’t sure how Paul and Pat were taking it. Either way, he preferred their company.

Training as done shortly after that, it was mostly just making sure anything they had knocked was put back and checking the floor for blood, with a short play tussle between Paul and Tom. Instead of going their separate ways after training though, all three of them headed to Tord’s office, all of them holding hands. Tom was holding Patryck’s, his other hand in his hoodie pocket, surprised to feel how full his hip flask was. He really had been drinking less recently, but he hadn’t expected it to be that much of a difference. By then his flask would be at least half empty, and right then it was almost full.

He didn’t have time to think on that too much though, Tord’s office not having been too far away. The door was opened, all three of them stepping inside. Tom was startled to see Tord holding a gun, though not aimed at them. Tord lifted the gun slightly, beaming, a cigar stuck out the side of his mouth. Tom approached cautiously, the gun being held out to him.

“Congrats my friend, you have earned this!”

Tom was unsure as he took the gun from Tord, inspecting it It was an assault rifle, though clearly customized to some degree - most guns didn’t come with a blue finish, or with “Blue Leader” engraved into the hilt. He looked it over for a moment or so, before looking at Tord. Why had he been trusted with a gun…? One he was going to be able to have on him at all times? There was even a clip in it. Tord tossed a back at Tom afterwards, and he barely managed to catch it due to surprise. Peering inside, he spotted what was most likely a uniform.

“Thanks - I think?” Tom tugged on the strap attached to the gun, shouldering it so he looked as non-threatening as possible.

“Take care of it! It’s far from the only one you will get, but it was made just for you.” Tord nodded, taking the cigar from between his lips. “I figured you deserved a reward, hopefully this will make you feel less vulnerable - but please, don’t start shooting at random, we’d be heartbroken if we had to open fire on you.”

“We?”

“Us.” Paul stepped forward, gesturing to himself, Patryck and Tord. “Tord cares too, Tom.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tom responded, still not convinced, but pleased with his new gun. He wouldn’t be able to use it to fuck the commie plans up, but it looked nice, and it did make him feel a little safer. He wouldn’t be the only one wandering around without some kind of weapon.


	10. Chapter 10

The day before the attack on the US had Tom’s nerves nearly shot. He was terrified, even though he knew what he had to do - or at the very least what Tord had told him to do. They’d scrapped the drop pod due to the US’s penchant for throwing missiles at anything vaguely threatening, and decided that pushing Tom up alongside the tanks with Tord would be their best bet for getting him as close to the White House walls as possible. The problem was, it was up to Tom to judge when he should transform - he knew best after all how long he’d be able to hold form.

His worry must have been obvious, considering Paul and Pat had barely left his side all day, and even Tord was being overly nice. He was in the dim office he’d visited many a time, the final once-over of the battle plan and backup plan having concluded. Most people had left, except for those four.

The reality of the fact they could die in any combination and number was clearly getting to them, even _Tord_. Tom couldn’t dent the authenticity of Tord’s emotions as he pulled all three of them towards him, doing his best to wrap his arms round them.

“This is it, my dear friends.” Tord looked between them. “Tomorrow, anything can happen.”

“We’ll manage it.” Paul spoke up, determined but shaky. “We’ve been planning this for years.”

Tom felt his chest tighten. He’d gotten attached to Paul and Patryck - as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to love them. Maybe not the same as he loved Edd and Matt, but the thought of losing them still hurt. Hell, he’d even learned to hate Tord a little less. Seeing Paul and Pat being affectionate with him had softened his resistance somewhat, even if it had also sent a pang of jealousy through him.

...It was going to kill him to doom them to their deaths.

Tom barely slept that night, then again neither did any of them. Tom normally grumbled about Tord joining them to sleep, but right about then having Tord with him was some weird kind of comfort. He didn’t even care that he had his arms round Tord, he normally preferred Paul or Patryck, he just needed to be close to someone. Of course,Patryc held him, while Paul held Tord too, they really liked being on the outside of the group when cuddling he’d noticed - then again being the big spoon was just _nice_ in general.

They all lay in silence when they woke, having slept at least a few hours. Tom wagered he’d slept the least, knowing that everyone in that bed with him, and possibly even himself was going to die in a few hours, because of him. He’d learned to control his emotions better by then, so he didn’t cry or even come close, but the pain in his chest didn’t let up.

Four alarm clocks going off in unison was like a siren, telling them that it was time to prepare. Despite three of them being hardened soldiers, they all tensed up and hesitated, before reluctantly unwinding their arms from around each other. They were silent as they changed into their uniforms and shouldered their guns, making their way out of the room, holding hands tightly, as if for dear life, moving with the flow of the rest of the soldiers that left their rooms round about the same time. Tom looked at the faces that he could see, all looked stoic and prepared, but also afraid. He saw others holding hands, linking arms, holding each other somehow.

None of them were going to survive, and only he knew that for certain.

People got into positions, readying tanks, weapons…. Tom could hardly believe that the US government hadn’t noticed any of this going right under their noses. They weren’t exactly underground neighbors to the White House, but they were certainly close enough that none of the White House defences would be able to stop them in time.

Tom followed the others to the tank bay, locating the tank they’d be boarding. Tom felt sick, this didn’t feel real, as much as he hoped and prayed it was a dream, the clunk of his boots against the steps into the tank were all too real. Once he was inside, the tank driver greeted them quietly, making sure everything was functional. The four of them sat, huddled together. Tom knew the other three weren’t as afraid of the fight as they were losing each other, but seeing hardened soldiers so scared was still fucking with him.

After a while, Tord was given the alert that everyone was ready to go. He looked to Tom,paul and Patryck, before lifting the walkie talkie to his face.

“Let’s move.”

The tank whirred to life, pushing forward the second the ones ahead of it did. Tom didn’t see what was going on, he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t need to see until he was closer anyway - if they made it that far.

“Tom.” Tord spoke up, grabbing Tom’s attention instantly. “Thank you for this.”

There was the chest pain again. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do. Despite everything, you’re here in this tank with me, going to war with me, even after what I did.”

Tom could have said many things then - he could have said he was only doing it for Edd and Matt, or that he was only doing it because he’d been threatened. Instead, he reached out to tug Tord closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“Keep your sorry, sappy ass alive and I’ll consider us even.”

All four of them smiled, even if it was bittersweet, and let out a short laugh.

“I will do my very best, old friend.”

The tanks rumbled on, getting closer and closer - and quite suddenly, Tom heard explosions and gunshots, as well as fighter jets flying overhead. He felt hs heard racing, gripping his gun and the hand he was holding. His gun would do nothing if a jet was targeting the tanks, but he could hope.

“They’re ours.” Tord assured the other three. “We’re getting close.”

Tom was still terrified, Paul and Pat had been pretty much silent the whole time, giving their support and encouragement through actions more than words. Tom didn’t know what to say either, so he didn’t blame them. He was to afraid to speak now, incae his guilt let his plans slip.

Th tan shook suddenly, Tom yelping and nearly falling to the ground. Tord swore, grabbing his gun and sprinted to the front of the tank, trying to see what was going on.

“We’re hit, but we’re fine!” The tank driver informed them. “It was just radius blast.” Tom followed Tord, thanking the driver who gave him a few seconds to see what was going on. He wasn’t close enough yet, but he could see the White House. It was distant, but they were fast approaching. Tom hoped their tank got blown up before they reached it, it would be more humane.

He moved back to Paul and Pat, Tord following him. He gripped their hands, pressing his forehead against theirs.

“We’re almost there.” He informed them, they nodded when he drew his head back, each of them pressing a kiss to his lips. He didn’t care for discomfort then, returning each kiss, trying not to let his fear take over him, He would much rather shoot himself and be done with it, but he had a job to do. He could be the difference between the US’s defeat or victory.

Tod gave and received the same affection from Paul and Pat, looking to Tom to offer him a smile.

“Fuck it.” Tom chuckled dryly, clumsily tugging Tord closer to kiss him, too. Tord was surprised but reciprocated for the few seconds their lips were together.

“What a time to warm up to me!” Tord cracked a grin, elbow nudging him. 

“Classic, stupid me.” Tom adjusted his hat, looking to the tank driver, feeling Paul and Pat pull him and Tord down onto the seats again. The last thing they needed was being tossed around the Tank if they got hit again.

“We’re approaching the White House, Blue Leader!”

Tord, Paul and Pat looked to Tom, who nodded. He let out a shaky sigh, standing up, gripping anything that would help im keep his balance. He looked at the other three, offering them the bravest smile he could.

“I love you guys.” He managed quietly before his voice cracked He hurried to the front of the tank, getting a visual on where they were. He stayed there, trying to time it - the tanks ahead were peeling off in opposite directions, surrounding the White House and clearing room for the tank Tom was in. He waited for a few more seconds, before he darted to the ladder, climbing up and opening the tank up.

He heard Paul, Patryck and Tord shout after him, wishing his luck and or begging him to be safe. Once he pushed the tank open, he threw himself out and lay flat over the top, kicking the hatch shut. Just as the tank started to turn, he crawled across the top of the tan, throwing himself onto the ground and rolling,making sure not to get caught under any tank wheels.

He pushed himself up off the ground, running alongside the tank he’d leaped out of best he could, realizing that he was going have to transform soon, or get show to shit by the rapidly approaching US forces with guns. As much as it hurt, he was going to have to force it. He whined as he felt every part of his body ache in preparation, the collar becoming too tight as he grew, screaming as his entire form changed, stumbling and falling while his limbs bent, cracked and reshaped. By the time he fully transformed, Tord’s tank was quite far ahead, and he was free of the shock collar.

He looked around, unsure what to do now. He didn’t plan for the tanks splitting up like this. Fuck it, he was going to have to improvise. He started to chase the tan Tord was in, letting out a roar in an attempt to keep himself determined, swinging his fists at the first tank, throwing it off course and causing it to collide into the one beside it, halting various others. 

He winced as he struck the next tank, the metal colliding with his fists causing pain, and knowing that the people inside were most likely dead once they hit the next tank, or would be caught and killed didn’t help. In the end, though, it had to be done.

He continued slamming his way through tanks, eventually reaching the one Tord Paul and Pat were in. He did a running leap, landing on it with quite some force, slowing it down considerably. He could hear them all inside, screaming and panicking - the sound caused him to hesitate. He looked behind him, seeing that the chaos he’d caused had almost entirely halted the remaining tanks, giving the US enough time to send forces in to push them back and attack. 

Tom whined feebly when he looked back round, forcing the hatch down when someone tried to open it. After a few seconds of hesitation, he raised his fists, crashing them down into the front of the tank full force. It screeched, turning on the spot for a few seconds, before grinding to a halt. He clambered off it then, looking around again. The tanks were way ahead of him now, but it looked like they were slowly, but surely being stopped.

It was going to take a while, unless Tord called in a retreat, but it didn’t look like he tanks were going as planned. He readied himself to leap off the tank and towards the ones ahead,throwing some around would still be useful, when he heard guns firing and felt pain in his thighs. He let out a cry - though it sounded more like a growl, slipping off the tank and hitting the ground. He winced, forcing himself up and running,hoping whoever was shooting at him would understand he was trying to help - then it dawned on him.

The shooters would raid the tank.

He turned around, focusing his sight, seeing armed soldiers running towards him, and some climbing up to the hatch. He growled, throwing himself towards the soldiers, lowering his head and tossing it upwards to knock the soldiers aside, rather than harm them properly, barrelling through the second wave and towards the tank. His thigh hurt bad, even if he wasn’t sure the bullets had actually done much damage, all things considered it had taken some super saiyan shit to knock him out last time.

One he reached Tord’s tank, he climbed up onto it, shoving the soldiers off with the back of his hand, hunching his shoulders and growling. He had planned to leave them all in there to be caught or killed, but considering just how much Tord’s army had relied on this specific part of the plan working… maybe he could save them.

He lifted an arm to shield his face, expecting bullets, when a huge explosion shook the Earth. Tom lowered his arm, looking over, and regretting it almost immediately. The US’s air forces had joined the fray - and by God they were not happy. Tom panicked, knowing that it wouldn’t take long for the next bomb to drop on him and the tank beneath him. The soldiers seemed to notice too, they started to fall back and shout at one another to move faster. He looked up, seeing the jet fly over and - there it was.

He screamed, throwing himself down and over the tank, gripping it tightly. He heard the rocket hurtling towards him, squeezing his eye shut. If he’d survived a radiation blast, maybe he could shield the tank.

Tom only felt the impact for a second.


	11. Chapter 11

Tom winced as he woke, vision blurry, every part of his body felt like it was on fire. It took a moment to remember what had happened, all he could hear was yelling, and feel someone grabbing at him and trying to yank him up. He tried to speak but choked, barely able to keep his eye open, not that he could see much when he managed. It all came back very suddenly, and all of a sudden despite the pain, he pulled himself free of whoever had hold of him, leapt to his feet and turned to deliver a swift blow to his attacker.

“Tom!”

He froze up, trying to blink his eye back into functionality.

“Patryck?”

He mustn’t have been out long if hey hadn’t been rounded up yet. He realized that the explosion hadn’t fully reverted him back yet - his hands were still large and claw tipped, he was still huge, and he swore he still had a tail, even though he was beyond being able to move it now. He could hear US soldiers shouting and rallying, no doubt about to start sweeping the halted tanks and take care of any survivors for good now that the bombs had been dropped.

Tom scooped Patrick up in his arms, his vision clearing up enough to spot Paul and Tord and grabbing hold of them too. He was limping, so not moving as fast as he could, and was probably a fairly obvious sight, but started to run, weaving best he could through destroyed tanks and various other rubble.

“There’s a rover.” Tord shouted, making sure Tom could hear him. “Go that way!” All three of the men in Tom’s arms pointed, and he followed. He was, at the very least, able to move faster than the soldiers, and while they were far from losing them on foot, the rover might be just what they needed. He stumbled a few times, barely keeping his footing, and he was tiring out fast. He just hoped he could hold out long enough to reach the rover.

His legs gave out forty feet or so away from it, making sure to drop the group he was holding and fall sideways, not wanting to hurt them. He let out a pathetic groan, trying to get back up..

“Come on! Help him up!”

All three of them grabbed him someplace or other and started to pull. Tom was surprised they managed it, up until he was picked up and hurriedly placed in the rover, realizing that par way through he must have reverted back to his normal self. He probably looked a little more scuffed up though.

The last thing he was conscious for was everyone piling into the car, and the driver speeding off.

By the time Tom came back around, he was no longer in a moving vehicle, instead he was slumped on a table. He grimaced, opening his eyes to look at his hands, which were almost completely bandaged up. He felt bandages around his neck and part of his face, too, but that wasn’t surprising. He had been directly hit by a drop rocket after all, it was a miracle he’d only been hurt.

He tried to stand, failing miserably and falling. He was relieved upon feeling someone catch him, and ease him back into the chair.

“At ease, soldier.” Tom looked up at Tord, who moved to sit on the table next to him. There was silence between them, and Tord didn’t look relieved to see him alive at all. Tom knew that going back for them had been a mistake, even f he’d managed to fuck up their plans, he was sure he’d doomed Edd and Matt by going back for the others. “When you’ve rested, we need to talk.”

“Where’s -”

“They don’t want to see you, not right now, and I don’t blame them. I’m only in here to make sure you didn’t try anything else stupid.” Tord leaned forward, dry blood plastered to the scarred side of his face. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself. You doomed my entire army to death, and rescued us to live with survivor’s guilt. I know you hate me, that’s fine. I don’t care now. But Paul and Patryck trusted you - they thought you cared about them.”

“I do - Tord let me-” Tom tried standing up again, only to be forced back into his seat.

“Stay where you are, and be thankful I haven’t shot you.” 

Tom looked down at his hands again, unsure how he should be feeling. Sad? Angry? He felt nothing, he felt completely numb. He heard Tord slide off the table, and leave the room, being left with just his thoughts. Just how badly had he been hurt? How many people had died because of him? Considerably less than the Red Army would have killed he was sure, but… it was still something to know he’d caused the deaths of most likely thousands. Edd and Matt would soon join that number he was sure.

He had no idea how long he was alone for. He dissociated through most of it, trying not to think about what had just happened. He was brought out of it by the door opening again, and the sound of a glass being put on the table. He looked up at it, just water and a bendy straw. He looked up further at who had brought it, seeing both Paul and Pat, for once, neither seeming happy to see him. He mumbled a thank you, gulping down the water quickly.

“We’re taking you home, Tom.” Paul spoke quietly.

“We’ve managed to get in contact and call in a favor. Come on.” Patryck hooked an arm under Tom’s arm, and started to lift him, Paul helping by stepping round Tom and doing the same thing.

“What? Just like that?”

“Tord doesn’t want you here.” There was silence while Tom was helped towards the door, none of them had anything to say. Tom caught a glimpse of Tord watching as he was escorted through what was most likely an emergency bunker. He just let himself be taken to wherever it was he needed to be.

Tom was helped into another car, into the back seat, Patryck sitting beside him. Paul got into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine, opening up the hangar door and carefully driving out, not wanting to fuck up the car no doubt. Tom folded his arms over his front, looking down at his knees. He was still in uniform, or what was left of it. Most of it was torn to shit, he was going to look a real state when he was dropped back home.

Ten minutes into the drive, he felt Patryck loop an arm round him, and pull him in. He was surprised, and it hurt a little, but he leaned against Patryck and closed his eyes. It wasn’t going to be fun seeing them go, but he would have Edd and Matt again. The car ride was silent, even once they reached their destination and transferred to a plane. It looked like a private one some rich guy would own - was that how they’d get into the UK? Under the guise of someone else?

He wasn’t going to complain.

Once on the plane, he was seated in the middle of a three-seat row, Paul and Patryck sitting either side of him, pushing up the arm rests. Tom felt misery settling in when their arms wrapped around him - he’d let this happen, after all. The first time he’d woken up in their bed he should have bitten it and dealt with the lack of affection.

The plane took off, both Pat and Paul rest their heads on Tom’s, still silent. There wasn’t anything to be said, really. Any conversation they could have would have been awkward after all, they were more than happy enjoying the few hour flight in silence. Chances were it would be the last time they saw each other, at least when they weren’t expected to fight one another.

Tom was honestly surprised that the plane just landed directly behind the house, instead of a runway somewhere and then getting into a car for the drive. He felt excitement and dread all at once, standing with the air of Paul and Pat. They shared gently headbunts and kisses before they helped Tom down onto the ground and to the front door.

No words shared between them even as they parted, Pat and Paul pushing something into his remaining pocket before retreating to the jet as quickly as they could and taking off. Whoever owned it must have been rich as fuck, the damn thing had military vertical take-off. He waited until the jet was up in the air, and on the way before he pressed the doorbell, leaning against the doorframe.

Didn’t seem that anybody was in.

He turned around, slumping to the ground against the door,deciding he would rather wait than go limping around the main street looking how he did.It didn’t take long for Edd and Matt to come home,both of them dropping the groceries and running towards him.

None of them were coherent,sobbing and holding each other as Tom was taken inside. He cried so hard the inside of his chest felt raw from sobbing, and he clung so tight to Edd and Matt that his injuries were burning, but he didn’t care. 

It took hours of crying to finally get out what had happened to him, and hours of talking after the fact to feel safer at home, after all of that the three of them ended up on the couch, two of them asleep.

Tom, however, chewed the bandages off one hand, grimacing at the state of the skin on it. It was blistered badly, and still bleeding a little now he’d irritated it, but that was fine. He’d rather look like Tord and be back home than be dead or stuck with the communists. He fished what had been placed in his pocket out, perplexed at the sight of folded paper.

It was a little difficult to unfold it, but once he did, he smiled, tears welling up in his eyes.

A photo of Paul and Pat, with what seemed to be a temporary contact number scrawled across the bottom. He folded it back up, stuffing it into his pocket.

Edd and Matt knew, and had forgiven him.

Maybe he would be able to call the two communists soon, though. He had a feeling Edd and Matt would get along well with them, on better terms of course.

Tom was also definitely down for having _four_ boyfriends.


End file.
